


Like All the Other Boys

by TamarElmensdorp



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, M/M, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TamarElmensdorp/pseuds/TamarElmensdorp
Summary: Sometimes you need a band to make you realise things.





	Like All the Other Boys

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a bit weird, but you'll find out why soon enough. I don't think it's too confusing.

Fireworks.

You have mixed feelings about those. You love the colours and sparkles, sure. But the noise and the smoke, not so much.

You’re sitting in the open windowsill of your room, legs dangling on the outside. Your mom always forbids you to do that, thinking that either you're going to jump or fall. She doesn’t know. She doesn't know how often you’ve thought about just that. Jumping, falling, dying.

But not tonight. Tonight some band is playing on the Den. Apparently they're locals who got big and escaped the nothingness. Supposedly it's a big deal too. The town has been buzzing with weird fans for a couple of days now. From what you can hear, the music is cool enough. It sounds big. They’ll surely end their set with fireworks, to make it even bigger.

You get down from the windowsill, put on a hoody and leave your room. You want to see how close you can get to that band on the Den. Your ma would have been happy too, before. Go out and have some fun with your friends. Don’t stay cooped up in your room all the time. How come you don’t ever bring a girl back home? Why are you not normal, like all the other boys? That’s the sort of things she says to you, and to be honest, you’re sick and tired of hearing it.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

When you come down, your mother sits at the kitchen table, doing god knows what, a half empty bottle of wine next to her. She’s doing that often, now that you think of it, just sitting and drinking. You guess she’s having a rough time with the divorce, but you don’t know. She never talks to you, never really did. Apart from telling you how weird you are, that is.

“I’m heading out”, you tell her. Her only reply is a sort of mumble. Hm, the caring days seem to have flown out the window. Well, it’s not like you care either. Stupid mom, stupid house, stupid town. One day you’ll escape this bloody place, just like that band on the Den did.

You pull your hood up and push your hands deep inside the pockets. Shoulders pulled up, head down, you trudge towards the Den. Of course the whole bloody place is fenced in, so you decide to go down to the beach. At least you can hear the music there, even though it’s slightly muted by the sounds of the sea and the lower level you’re at.

You sit down on the beach, near the pier, knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them. The band is singing about losing control and breaking out. You want that too.

“‘Cause I want it now, I want it now”, you softly mumble it with them. Then, tears start falling. Angrily you push your hands to your eyes to make them stop. But they keep coming even though you’re pushing your hands to your eyes so hard you’re seeing stars.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

The bitterness inside is growing like the new born. Fuck, this band sings what you feel. You lay down on your side, pulling yourself in an even tighter ball. And you just lay there, crying. 

You must have fallen asleep for suddenly you wake up from an eerie sound. You sit up again. A shiver runs down your spine when the sound of a lone harmonica floats through the air. A guitar joins in. And then some sort of singing starts. It’s not words, just an aha-ing, the crowd goes wild. A ripping guitar, falsetto voice, some lines, more guitar and more aha-ing. Then the chorus. No one’s gonna take me alive.

You perk up. This is powerful music. You need to be closer. You get up and run up the stairs, taking two at a time. In your haste to get closer, you don’t look where you’re going. When you turn left onto Courtenay Place to run towards the Den, you bump into someone.

“Oi, look where you’re going”, a guy yells at you. You mumble a quick sorry and want to move on, but he grabs you by the shoulders, keeping you rooted at the spot.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“I, I want, I need to get closer to that band”, you stammer, while you look up at the guys face.

It’s a blond guy, about your age. You’ve probably seen him around at school. He must hang with the cool kids, you think. You, obviously, don’t. Skittish, you look around you. You don’t want to be here, held by that boy. You want to be where the band is. You’re getting jittery and agitated, but he’s not letting you go, so you look him in the eyes, an angry frown on your face. At the sight of your annoyance, his face softens.

“So, you like this band, huh?” he asks. “How come you’re not there then?”

“It’s the first time I’ve heard them. Aw fuck, now the song is done, thank you very much.”

Not just the song has ended, it’s the end of the show. Lots of smoke, lots of noise, the crowd going crazy, no fireworks, though. This guy is really beginning to irritate you, yet somehow, you haven’t pulled away from him yet. His hands on your shoulders feel warm, tingly, kinda nice.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

Your mother’s voice echoes through your head.

Like all the other boys. Normal. Like all the other boys.

With a sigh, you drop your head again.

“They play again tomorrow. Wanna try and sneak in?” the guy asks you, still not letting go of you. “I’m Dom by the way. I think I’ve seen you at school”, he continues. See, you knew it. School. One of the cool kids. He must be fucking with you. You expect a smirk on his face when you look up, but it isn’t there. You just see a kind smile, so you shrug a sort of yeah. Whatever, you don’t expect to see him again tomorrow. You want to, though. You want it bad.

When you get home, you find your mother passed out at the kitchen table. The bottle of wine is empty and a new one is nearly empty as well. You could just go up to your room, but instead you clean up a bit. You wake your mother up and bring her to bed. She hardly notices.

When you get to your room, you open your window again. The streets are still full of people, either going to wherever they’re going to sleep, or just roaming about. You take off your shoes, but don’t feel like undressing any further, so you just plop down on the bed. The sounds from outside, lull you to sleep.

You’re outside, on the Den, and it’s day again. It’s completely empty except for an enormous stage and all the fences that surround the field. A song is playing. It’s that song that band played yesterday. You have no idea where the sound comes from, for you are still the only one there.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, warmth spreading from it. Even though you don’t turn around, you know it’s that guy from school, Dom. He came! He came, like he said he would. A smile spreads over your face and you feel warm inside.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

With a jolt, you wake up. Dom? Why were you dreaming about Dom? And why did your mother tell you to be normal, like all the other boys again? You’re sweating, but the wind coming through the still opened window, cools down your moist skin and makes you shiver. You quickly get up to close the window.

But as soon as you grab the handle, you zone out. Your eyes glaze over and instead of the houses across the street, you see a blond guy with a sweet smile on his face, his hand on your shoulder. Dom. His image warms you from the inside.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

Your mother’s voice inside your head rips you from your daze. You close the window, take off your clothes and crawl into bed, wearing just your boxers, not feeling like searching for your pyjamas. Almost as soon as you hit the mattress, you fall asleep, but your night is restless, tossing and turning.

It’s noon when you wake up again. Your mother is nowhere to be seen, so you leave her a note on the kitchen table; saying you’re out. Not that she cares or anything, but at least you told her.

You hadn’t talked about a place to meet Dom, so you’re just wandering around a bit. The streets are crowded. Some people, apparently, are already queuing for tonight’s show. Weirdos, but it does make the town a little bit more appealing than the usual quietness, or worse, the old age summer vacationers.

But with no plan in mind, you worry about ever finding Dom. He probably was fucking with you after all and that’s why no definite plans were made. You walk around the fenced in Den. The people in the queue are shooting nasty glaces your way. As if you would want to cut the line, pfff. You don't really see a way to sneak in- maybe when it's dark?  
Security guards hover everywhere.

Your stomach starts to growl and you realise you haven’t eaten anything since tea yesterday. You decide to buy some chips and head down to the beach to eat them. The beach is just as empty as on normal September days. Just a couple of people walking their dogs, even though they aren’t allowed on the beach until the end of of the month. Some kids are playing football. A mother with a small kid is building a castle.

You sit down near the pier, fish out your headphones and put on some music. You wish you had looked up some songs of that band, but you hadn’t even bothered to find out their name. It must be all over town, though. Still, you’re too lazy to get up again and search for some posters or something.

The chips warm you up. The wind coming from the sea is cooler than you expected when you were still on the boulevard. Still, you don’t want to go back home for your hoody. It’s not like you’ll stay here very long. Dom won’t show up. You’re certain of that. Why would he?

A pang of pain shoots through your heart at the thought, and you wonder why. It’s not like you know him or anything. It’s not like you’re being stood up by your best friend. Hrmpf, you don’t even have a best friend, or a friend at all.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

Closing your eyes, you let your mother’s words flow through your mind. You’ve heard them so often, they’ve become a part of who you are. But what if... What if you are normal? Maybe not like all the other boys, but normal nonetheless?

The music washes your thoughts away. You’re drifting in a void, oblivious of anything that happens around you. It’s peaceful without the voices in your head- your mother’s. Your own.

Suddenly, your earphones are snatched from your ears and you crash down into reality again. When you see no one around, you look up. Hovering above you is Dom’s face, smiling. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you quickly turn your face away.

Dom plops down behind you, a leg on either side of you. He rests his chin on your left shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You forget how to breath.

“So, what’re you listening to?” Dom asks while he grabs for one of your earbuds. He puts it in his own ear before you can either pull it away, or kill the music.

“Rachmaninoff”, you mumble, cheeks turning an ever deeper colour. You know how uncool it is to listen to classical music.

“Did you hear the piano pieces yesterday? I’ll bet they’ll play them again tonight.”

But apparently Dom doesn’t own a copy of the Uncool Checklist. He talks about random things: school, his annoying parents, a series on TV. You listen, but don’t say a word. You can’t tell him about your father leaving, or your mother drinking- now can you? But you don’t care. You like listening to him, his voice near your ear.

Why are you not normal, like all the other boys?

There it is again, your mother’s voice in your head. She wouldn't approve of or think Dom holding you was "normal." It feels so right, though. You want to lean into Dom, wrapping your arms around him, but of course- you don’t. You stay seated upright, hands playing with the sand underneath your pulled up knees. But the thing is, he isn’t moving away from you either. He just sits there, enveloping you. How in the world could this be wrong?

You stay on the beach, talking for hours; then a rumble cuts the air. Dom’s hungry stomach. And, to be honest, you could eat something too. Dom jumps up, then pulls you up. With his arm around you, together you take the stairs to the boulevard, looking for something to eat. You settle on pizza and coke.

“Let's try and climb on top of the Pier”, Dom says with his mouth full, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. You turn towards him and his smile breaks through. It’s as if his face lights up. Something happens in your belly. It rumbles, but not for food. This a different hunger.

You manage to climb the roof of the pier, escaping the gaze of security guards and the police. You guess everyone is turning a bit of a blind eye for this once in a lifetime big event.

The support acts are done then some sort of circus ringmaster announces the band. Your eyes start to glimmer. Oh yeah, this is going to be a day to remember. Even more so when Dom wraps his arms around you again. This time he doesn’t leave it at that. He gives you a small peck on your cheek.

Fireworks explode inside of you. You like this kind of fireworks. It leaves you tingling all over. You look at the other fans around you, but nobody seems to care. Mother is wrong. You are normal.

Normal, like all the other boys.


End file.
